


Black Thread Around Red

by VoltraTheLively



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltraTheLively/pseuds/VoltraTheLively
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musing over a black flame makes the lectures <em>almost</em> worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Thread Around Red

Why we bother with the meetings, I’ll never know. The only reason that comes to mind is that Maryam wants to make sure we haven’t up and killed each other when she’s not around. Those aren’t normal thoughts for a monster like her. All of us little remains of society gathered in a clearing in Rufioh’s land. The trees are a surprisingly useful shelter to the imps. Dark as well. Comforting. Serket asks how progress has been with completing the game with little response. No one here wants to deal with responsibilities. That sort of thing is too heavy for their think pans to hold, so they entertain themselves with romance as a distraction. Disgraceful train of thought, but I’m not too far off I suppose. The pleasant quiet doesn’t last and the urge to leave rises as the disgusting stain upon our group steps forth.

The mood changes to bored to bored and dreading. The mutant has promise as a lawyer or politician, but that has no value here. There’s so much to him that brings the growls from deep within out to prowl. As much fun as it would be to strangle him for wasting his words and our time, self control is highly valued. So I wait.

The false prophet began his droning and everyone soon found their shoes and nails to be worthier of their attention. Even with her misguided ways, the Empress knows better than to bother staying. Serket soon follows to keep in line with the late baroness’s wishes and Ampora trails after the ladies. Being the officially appointed grubsitter for Peixes ain’t easy but that’s nothing compared to the disgust she feels for the lesser seadweller. Kinda makes you wonder... hm. The wall needs a touch up I think.

The eastern love birds leave with the Page soon following. Zahhak is horrible at keeping secrets and it’s only a matter of time until she knows. That’ll break the monotony nicely. 

Pyrope looks like she wants to stay if only to be polite, but Tuna gets antsy. Poor guy can’t stand staying still. “Unnerving” he calls it, among other things. I wave to him a farewell and that gets a grin. 

Meu pokes my shoulder to get my attention and mine alone, saying without words that she’ll be over at the wall in her land. Her hair gets ruffled up a bit by my hand (she loves that) and she rushes off. 

Maryam’s eyes meet mine. I get the feeling she somehow doesn’t trust me. I’m a reasonable guy. Honest, thoughtful, looking out for my loved ones. I’m a model troll! She soon figures that between anything else she can do and listening to Kankri, she would rather jump into acid and die again. Her goodbye to her “son” is left unheeded. 

And then there were two. It’s only now that the fool realizes that his supposed audience is lost. At least he has the common sense to look embarrassed about it. He mumbles something along the lines of “Didn’t realize...” as he gets up and brushes off that revolting sweater in its horrid hues. Does he have no shame? There’s showing off your sign and blood hue, and then there’s hiding one and over compensating the other. Fastest way to isolate yourself Vantas. Don’t show what would get other mutants to side with you and show off what makes you “special” and above them all.

He’s either oblivious to my presence or is simply ignoring me until it’s convenient to him (either is likely) as he continues brushing and fussing and cleaning his garments. Sweater first so Maryam doesn’t bug him for excess dust. He starts at the sleeves, then to the collar, and to the bottom edge. Very thorough, very much like his speeches. Repetitive and boring to pay attention to as well. But my eyes can’t be bothered to draw themselves away until he bends forward to clean one of the leg of his absurd pants. Stares are intimidating enough without the idea of perversion behind them.

He straightens himself and pulls a handkerchief from his captchalogue to clean his hands. Pianist’s hands, ones that wouldn’t last a day of hard labor. His hand runs through his hair to rearrange it to its “proper” form. I assume it would be soft from the gloss and soft shine reflected from the moons but I have no way of being sure. He turns towards me and my stitches are pulled up by a smirk. The Seer has finally decided to grace the Prince with his attention.

The prior treatment of his beloved speech and my lack of communication (as far as he knows) leaves him lost for words, if only for a few blissful moments.

“Evening Kurloz. I’m sure the night is treating you well. I hope my speech kept you entertained.” The mutant looks around. “You might have been the only one. Perhaps I should have been clearer when it came to the future of our game session...” He adds. At least he’s somewhat aware. That’s a plus. I give a half shrug. Wasn’t listening that much so I can’t really say.

Vantas gets quiet again. This one isn’t as enjoyable. The first one was full of anticipation for how he could butcher his attempts at socializing yet again. This quiet is the awkward elephant in the room that is my lack of tongue and communication. It was only a pedigree ago that I made that solemn vow, but he still can’t find a way to get around it. Even Tuna knows to carry a pad of paper and pencil with him. Not Vantas. Oh no. that sort of higher thinking might frighten his delicate ego and self worth which is apparently hanging in the balance every god damn day. Disgusting.

He’s still there, shuffling his feet together. Nothing new. He did that all the time before that horrid nap. He wants to speak but isn’t sure if he should. Before it was my face, now it’s my mouth.

I make a gesture to him. Might as well throw the dog a bone. His flushcrush left in the middle of his routine speech, should at least try to be nice before he runs into an ogre hoard in a depressed funk _again_.

Vantas’s eyes light up and he falls face first into a discussion on the potential game outcomes that ends up being a lecture on imp psychology. It’s amazing how he can go from possibly helpful to shit in less than one hundred words. Time to butt in.

I pull out a clipboard and pen from my captchalogue. purple ink and white lined paper threaten to fall to the ground as I get a grip on the surface so lovingly gifted to me from my moirail (it makes a lovely thunk noise against Ampora’s head). It takes only a few heartbeats for my mind to put together the perfect thing to tell him and scratch it down.

“...so the alpha male was the alpha female all alo-” I cough loud enough to get his attention. This is hardly an easy feat. Voice box doesn’t get as much practice nowadays. He pulls out of his self-inflected speech stupor and looks at my sentence with his eyebrows pulled together.

_‘shut up.’_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Should I continue? I just don't know.


End file.
